Tainted Steel
by Strange Demise
Summary: The ledgend of the black knight from the Arthurian Era, rewritten. A man from a dark past was known as a champion of the royal family, but after a murderious rampage and a great betrayal, our dark knight has made quite a terrible reputation for himself as he slaughters everything in his path, but his life of bloodshed will cross paths with a woman who will flip his world around.
1. Chapter 1: The Legend

Throughout the many ages of man, history has foretold of the most epic heroes of all time. Heroes such as the Grecian demi-god Hercules, and the mighty child pharaoh, Tutankhamun. Heroes that believed to have been blessed by the gods, such as Moses, and tales of bravery and treacherous adventures that explored far off lands by heroes like Odysseus, and Marco Polo. Even the gods themselves where recognized by history as heroes, such as Thor and Odin, protector of man, as well as Hades, Poseidon, and Zeus, who saved the world from the rule of the Titans, but among these where the holy knights of the renaissance. During this age, many legends had made their mark in history, such as King Charlemagne, and King Henry IIV, but it was also a time of darkness as we explore a legend that was lost to history. The legend of the Black Knight.

Fearsome and more than a worthy advisory, the black knight stroked fear in the hearts of many. Where ever he went, death was sure to follow. Those who had crossed his path, never lived to tell the tale. He was believed to be the hell spawn of the devil, born from the fiery pits of hell, manifested in Darkness.

But it wasn't always told as such. He once served under the lordship of King Arthur. Known as a skilled warrior, he showed great power and might on the battle field, but his loyalty was to himself. He had served the great king for a few short years, before his betrayal of the royal family caused his name to be wiped out of history. He grew to resent his lord, and conspired against him with a band of people who wished King Arthur's Death. Ultimately, He was the one to take the king's life. With the king dead, the conspirators had sought to take the throne for themselves, but found that they were betrayed as the knight then turned on them, spilling their blood alongside the king. From then on, he grew dark as he fled to the barren forests, forever marked as a monster. A soulless, blood thirsty, black hearted murderer wanted for the most heinous of crimes… but within his dark soul, a heart still beats. It beats against the darkness that has consumed him, waiting to escape from its master's grasp, and release him from his torment. The heart he strived to protect. The heart that was the key to so much of his pain and despair. The heart he had been ignoring for some time…

"what was that?"

"what?"

"that noise." Replied the solider.

"I don't hear anything."

"shh! Did you see that!" whispered the soldier to his comrade.

"what?" demanded the clearly annoyed soldier.

"I think someone's watching us."

"Oh come now, that's just ridiculous and you know it. We're the only people here for miles around! No one goes into the forest anymore ever since-"

"shh! Keep quiet! What if 'he's watching us?"

The annoyed soldier raised a brow at his comrade before yanking his arm from his grasp, resuming their trek. His partner slowly hobbled after him after a moment of reluctance.

"I swear I heard something Phil!"

"Me too."

"You did?"

"Yeah, it's the sound of you being stupid." Retorted the soldier as he ignored his comrades burning glares.

"How far did you say the war camp was?" asked the solder absently.

His comrade grumbled under his breath as he took his time slipping off his pack, and searched for the map.

"It should be right up ahead. About another hundred feet?"

"You sure you are reading it right?"

"Pretty sure."

The soldier gave his comrade a skeptical look.

"If there is, by chance a camp within a hundred feet from here, don't you think we'd be able to see it by now?" questioned the soldier.

His comrade seemed to take note of his words as he looked confusingly at his surroundings.

"Err.. Maybe we made a wrong turn…" replied he comrade.

The soldier face palmed as he let out a frustrating groan.

"Damn it Earl! I gave you one simple task and you still screw up!"

"its not my fault! This map is confusing!" shouted the other in protest.

"How is a straight line from "fort" to "war camp" mentally hard!?" demanded the soldier.

"I was trying to avoid the monsters!" replied his comrade.

The soldier paused for a moment as he furrowed his brows at his comrade. "What monsters?"

His partner held up the map facing towards him as he pointed them out.

"You dumbass, those are just doodles and a coffee stain!"

The soldier huffed in anger as he paced back and forth, until pausing in front of his comrade.

"You know what? Let's just turn around and return to the fort, get some rest, and try to find camp in the morning."

"That actually sounds better than my plan." Replied his comrade.

"What was yours?"

"Stripping off our clothes to make a shelter and hold each other for warmth."

"That's a horrible plan. Never speak of it again."

"Agreed."

The two soldiers gathered their things and started trekking towards the opposite direction.

"Hey Phil?" asked his comrade.

"What is it now?" asked his partner irritably.

"You don't suppose those legends are true?"

"About what?"

"You know, the guy who murdered King Arthur and those workhands?"

"Oh don't tell me you actually believe in that muck." Groaned the soldier.

"But what about all those reports of people gone missing?"

"King Arthur died by assassination from the English army. Those work hands probably got into the way."

"But-" his comrade was about to protest before he was cut off.

"As for the missing travelers! They could have been easily killed by bears or ran into other soldiers. Accidents happen, Earl. People are just too stupid to realize that. When something goes wrong, they assume its witch-craft, or some type of sorcery at the works, but for a small community like ours, we blame it on the legend."

The soldier paused as he realize his comrade had stopped moving. He turned to face his partner with a questioning look.

"What's wrong? Why have you stopped?"

His comrade didn't move as he stood frozen, his body facing to the right, staring at something in fear. The confused soldier, not getting any response, slowly moved towards his colleague and tried to find what exactly he was looking at.

His face paled considerably as his gaze fell onto the bloody campsite down below a rift just a few meters in front of them. His comrade seemed to have difficulty breathing as he fumbled for his partner, gripping the front of his uniform as he started to hyperventilate. His partner clutched his shoulders and shook him violently to try and calm him down.

"Earl. Earl! Pull yourself together! We have to get down there and search for survivors!"

"Go down there? Are you crazy!" protested his comrade. "We'll be killed!"

"Whatever found this camp is gone now. We have to get down there and save anyone if we can!"

"I'm not going down there, Phil!"

"You are a soldier! Its time you started acting like one you glorified pansy!"

At this point, the fearful soldier had managed to pull away from his comrade, but ran the wrong direction and plummeted into the rift. His Partner caught up soon after as he leaped after him, landing a few feet away from the soldier as he picked himself up.

His partner had already drawn his sword and shield as he readied his battle stance, positioning himself in front of his partner as he finally got to his feet and armed himself.

They both slowly moved through-out the camp, careful not to make too much sound, other than their chain-mail clanking against the light amount of plate-armor they sported.

The one soldier was cool and collected, ready to fend off any danger that may be lurking. His comrade, however, was skittish as he tried to keep an eye on his surroundings by turning swiftly to and fro.

They decided to spit up as they checked for survivors, but after an hour of checking tents and bodies, they finally gave up searching, assuming there were no survivors.

The braver of the two turned to his comrade with a grim expression.

"Let's start gathering the bodies..."

His colleague slowly nodded as they both made quick work of gathering the bodies of the fallen towards the center of the camp as they laid them side by side. By the time they were done, their hands and upper arm where stained in blood. They voiced a short prayer in respect before washing up at a nearby stream and resting under a tree. There was a long moment of silence before one soldier finally spoke.

"We best get back to the fort and give them the news about the camp. They'll bring some men down and take care of the bodies."

"What are you going to tell them?" asked his comrade.

"Isn't it obvious? Clearly the camp had been raided by either bandits or enemy troops."

"Oh.. Right."

…"Phil?" asked the other soldier.

"Yea?"

"Did the camp have horses?"

"Why do you ask?" asked his partner as he furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Well, ones running right towards us…"

They both perked up as the sound of hooves and neighing got louder. As it came into view, they could now see a rider who drew out his sword as the horse thundered closer. The braver of the two quickly grabbed the other and shoved him to his feet as they both ran through the dense wooded forest with the horseman gaining on them.

The rider slowly raise his sword, ready to hack their heads right off, when a figure came out of nowhere appeared just up ahead of them.

The rider seemed startled by this, his sword slightly lowered as he looked up at the figure, catching him off guard as he was knocked off his horse by an oncoming tree branch. The rider fell with a heavy thump, his steed not ceasing as it charged pass the two soldiers, who leaped just in time before being trampled by the mighty beast. The horseman groaned as he slowly got to his feet, glaring at the two soldiers and the figure who had distracted him. The figure, who was still unrecognizable, fled into the dense over growth of the forest, leaving the two soldiers and the rider alone. The soldiers had gotten themselves up, and had their swords drawn.

The braver of the two step forth.

"Enough of this! Who are you and who are you working for!"

The knight gave no reply as he raised his sword once again, and charged towards them. the two scrambled out of the way before the deadly weapon could make contact with their flesh, and retaliated, swinging towards him with all their might, but they didn't get a good hit as the knight turned swiftly, and blocked with his arm braces, pushing them back with pure might. He swung again, nearly hitting them, but they managed to dodge and move a good distance of 5 feet away from their advisory, before having an axe thrown at them, just missing by a hair as it embedded itself into a tree. The two looked at one another, before high tailing the other direction for dear life, shouting for help. The knight pursued them, ripping his axe from its embedment and charged after them. They ran a few good meters before plummeting into the ground into an unseen Cliffside. The two clung to each other as they tumbled awkwardly down to the forest below. When they finally stopped, they looked frightfully at their surroundings, then back up to the cliff side where they fell from, only to find the knight peering down at them, then turning away after a moment of examination.

The two calmed themselves, thinking the worst was now over. They both gave out an uneasy laugh as they tried to catch their breath.

"That was a close one." Stated the braver one.

"Yea. Wait till the guys here about this." Replied his comrade.

They sat there for a moment as their breathing finally gotten steady, but as they got to their feet and dusted themselves off, they froze in terror as the sound of thundering hoofs and neighing echoed above them. They stared up at the Cliffside just in time to see the knight once again upon his horse as it leaped after them. It landed gracefully just ahead of them by a few feet as the knight rounded the horse, turning to face them. The two stared up at the rider's massive form, his dark armor giving him a bulky intimidating look as he withdrew both his sword and his axe. Even with the distance between them and it, they could hear his breathing as he huffed angrily, steam seething out from his helmet into the cold autumn air. He slipped off his steed and marched towards them, turning into a full blown charge as he closed the gap between them. The two soldiers, having nowhere to run, held each other for dear life as they shouted in horror of the sure death that the rider will bring, but just a slit second later, a loud clanking sound silenced them as they watched with wide eyes at the dark knight, who had frozen mid step, then falling forward face first before them. As the large form retreated to the ground, it revealed a woman with a large branch raised in midair who was standing just a foot or two from the unmoving form. She was wearing a deep green dress with the straps hanging just off her shoulders, and a dark purple cloak with the hood up and the cape covering her. She wasn't thin, but she wasn't extremely large either. She was about 5 foot 4 with pale snowy skin. She had orange red locks flowing from her hood, and amber-brown eyes. She had a bulky look, the word 'chubby' suiting her well. The two soldiers looked from her to the form, then at each other, before pulling away in relief.

The two soldiers turned their attention to the woman as she lowered the branch after poking the form and shrieking.

"Thank-you miss. I think we would have been dead if you hadn't shown yourself." Voiced the jumpier of the two.

"I saw you running through the forest being chased by that guy. I thought the two of you were in trouble so I.. followed." replied the woman.

"What are you doing here anyway? No one ever goes into the forest, it's dangerous."

"I could ask you the same thing, miss." Replied the braver soldier bitterly.

"I live here. My family has lived off the forest for years. If I didn't know how to fend for myself, I wouldn't be here saving your bums." She retorted.

"Now wait just a minute. You didn't 'save' us, we could have taken him ourselves without your help." Protested one of the soldiers.

"What he means is!" intervened the other. "Was that we appreciated your help, and we will take care of things from here."

The woman gave them a skeptical look as she raised an eye brow at them. Finally, she gave up as she turned to take her leave.

"I'll let you handle it then. I should be going now. The sooner you leave, and take that guy away, the better."

The two soldiers watched as she whistled into the trees. They watched with amazement as a large Hungarian work horse reared into view, pulling a cart behind it as it came to a halt in front of her. She gently mounted the large chestnut brown, white feather hoofed stallion, and slowly road off into the forest, leaving the two soldiers alone as they gathered the black Arabian stallion, and tying up the mysterious rider.

* * *

**first chapter of a new project! starting fresh with a clean slate, and since the legend of the black knight was simply a one time only apearance in the story of king arthur and the holy grail, i have more creative freedom with this one. :D i think i'm going to have alot of fun writting this, but unlike my first story, i'm going to try and post a chapter every week, and not post any too eairly. can't wait to see where this will take me. :d **

**-Demise/Scary, which ever u prefer. :3**


	2. Chapter 2: Prison Break-out

"Do you think that's … 'him'?" gulped the timid soldier as his partner struggled with their captive's steed.

"Ahhg! Stop asking useless questions and help me with this thing!" hissed the other.

His partner quickly silenced himself as he hobbled towards the beast and held onto the reins firmly as the other tied it securely to a thick tree branch. The stallion snorted in protest as it attempted to free itself, yanking feebly at its restraints.

"Ha! You're not going anywhere now you monster!" gloated the soldier triumphantly.

The horse seemed to glare at the soldier before it lowered its head, and bucked the soldier in the gonads.

The soldier fell to his knees as he clutched his tender area, gasping for air. His parter quickly rushed to his side to see how much damage was done.

"Phil! Are you alright?" exclaimed his partner as he kneeled down next to him.

"Do I look 'alright' to you, you bloke!?" hissed his comrade. "I am going to kill who ever thought putting spiked armor on a horse was a good idea…" huffed the pained the soldier.

"Hey, it worked didn't it?"

…"Shut up Earl!"

The soldier ignored the comment as he stepped away from his partner and moved towards the unconscious foe with curiosity. He wondered who this guy was, and what did he look like?

"Oh my god I think im bleeding!" shrieked his partner as he rolled onto his stomach, groaning pitifully.

The feebler of the two didn't take notice of his comrade's distressed cries as his curiosity got the better of him. He found himself inching closer to the dark figure tied up and leaning against a wide tree. Just a peek, he told himself. Just one small looksee, and I'll leave him be.. He slowly reached for the knight's helmet, his hands just inches away twitching with anticipation, until at the sound of approaching footsteps caused him to retreat away. He turned to find more soldiers marching towards them.

"Soldier! Report!" demanded a higher ranked officer, who was second in command to their general. The feeble one quickly shot up to his feet as he gave a respectful salute.

"Sir! We've captured what seemed to be an ally of the enemy forces sir! We found the Camp in total Destruction, there were no survivors, sir!"

"At ease!" ordered the ranked officer, practically screaming for the whole woods to hear.

The soldier lowed his arms as they were placed at his sides in a tensed fashion as he kept his gaze on nothing, not wanting to make eye contact with second in command, but unconsciously made himself go cross-eyed. (derp)

The general strode his horse and paused before the other soldier, who was still lying on the ground.

"What happened soldier!" he demanded. The soldier just groaned weakly as he struggled to lift his head, failing as he pressed further into the cold dirt.

The general then turned to the other expectantly.

"He is injured sir!"

"I can see that soldier." Spoke the general lowly.

"Where!"

"He is injured in the penis, sir!"

The general grimaced as the other soldiers snickered amongst themselves at the fallen soldier.

"And.. how did this happen?"

"He was handling the horse and it bucked him, sir!"

There was more laughter as a soldier fell onto his back, laughing hysterically as he pointed to the injured soldier screaming 'horse rape!' as another burst of laughter exploded in the woods. the fallen soldier groaned, embarrassed as he laid there helpless and humiliated.

The general turned swiftly towards the troops, giving them a warning glare as they silenced themselves.

"Bring the medics and have him checked out! You, you, and you! Grab the prisoner and the horse! The rest of you take care of the camp and bring home the fallen, then return to the fort!"

Everyone did as they were told, the prisoner and the two soldiers were escorted back to the fort.

As they entered the crowded hall of the fortress, many of their fellow soldiers turned and stared at the hulking prisoner as he was dragged down the corridors to the cellar where they held enemy soldiers for investigation and information. The two soldiers were left behind to be tended to as the prisoner was placed in one of the 5 cells they had available.

"Whoo-whee! That's one big sum' bitch!" exclaimed the old prison guard as he watched a few soldiers bring in a new captive. The two soldiers who escorted the prisoner in, merely nodded at the scrawny old, long bearded elderly man before turning back and heading upstairs to tend to other business.

The old prison guard made sure to secure the door before making his way to a back room. The sound of metal clanking could be heard from the small room as the old man went on with his daily business of preparing a meal for the prisoners. It was supper time, and he had prisoners to feed. He prepared a simple meal of stew and a loaf of bread, and carted the stew-pot towards the prison cells.

He started with the men whose foots where chained to the wall, carefully filling their bowls and handing them their bread and water.

"There ye go. You eat up now. Best keep your strength up there, boy, 'else yous ain't gonna be the lucky ones they return home." encouraged the old man as he handed a wounded prisoner his rations. The prisoner gave him a weak nod as he fed himself with his good arm.

The old prison guard moved onto the celled inmates. There were only 3 prisoners considered dangerous enough to be celled, with the exception of the new inmate. The prison guard took extra caution with the three regulars as he placed their rations on a trey, and pushed it into the cell with his cane through a small opening the base of the cell doors. He earned a growl from one of the more barbaric inmates as he shook his bars violently. The old man took the situation lightly as he poked the inmate with his cane.

The inmate flinched away, rolling under his cot as he held himself in a fetal position, sucking his thumb.

The old man knew better then to trifle with a warrior, but he found this one to be those types that aren't very bright. Maybe he was hit too many times in the head, or he was a simple pawn from the enemy ranks, either way, as long as he has no one to take orders from, he was harmless.

The next cell he passed held an inmate cladded in torn chainmail, who was often very quiet. The man had a short, full faced beard, and his cropped hair was slightly braided and mangled. He was a fierce soldier, and was captured from an ambushing fleet. He, and a few survivors were captured, but he had managed to almost escape twice, so now he was locked in a cell. The old man presented his food without complaint.

The final cellmate was perhaps the most worthy of all to be celled. He had killed more men than any other soldier, moving in incredible speed and fluidly cut down his enemies without a second thought. He was ruthless. He could intimidate with one look, and anyone who crossed his path would know he was deadly. From his razor sharp talons, to his cross-eyed glare. He was known as, el Pollo. Instead of reaching for the stew, the old man crouched over and reached for a sack, labeled: chicken feed, and casually tossed a handful into the cell.

"bacaw!"Screeched the chicken as it clucked towards its evening meal. The old man chuckled as the chicken pecked at the ground. The crazy old man had insisted that his pet chicken be celled to protect it from the prisoners. Over the years, he told everyone that the chicken was their most deadly prisoner. It was a lie of course, but most of the soldiers kept their distance away from his prized poultry, and the old man wasn't complaining. The chicken gave the man a cross-eyed stare before he moved on with his business.

The old man finally reached the last cell where the new inmate was held, but found him still knocked out and unconscious. He picked up his cane and slowly jabbed at the slumped over figure. After not getting a response the first couple of times, he raised his cane and wacked the prisoner's helmed head.

~Black Knight's P.O.V.

I awoke to the sound of bashing metal. It was doing nothing for the headache that rammed into my cranium the moment I opened my eyes. What greeted my sight at first was darkness, before my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting to find myself in unfamiliar territory. I reached for my head with a groan as it throbbed painfully against my helmet. It took me a moment to realize I was being watched. I turned to see a very thin elderly man on the other side of my cell with a crooked toothy grin and the offensive cane clutched in one thin hand. I let out a frustrated growl as my headache worsened to the point that my ears where ringing, but I had no time to dwindle away with an insignificant injury. I had to make my escape of this retched place. I reached for my axe, but found it missing. Of course. Why would they leave it behind? I growled again seeing that I must wait for the opportune time to make my escape rather than go as I pleased. My gaze flickered back to the old man who was in the process of pushing a tray of food towards me. I didn't bother to look over what was presented to me as I reached over for the food. I paused mid-way when I realized the old man was still there. I assumed he was curious about my appearance. I merely scowled at the man and growled again, dismissing him to leave me in my privacy. The old man simply chuckled as he pushed his cart along and left me in peace.

After I was sure he was out of sight and far away, I lifted my helmet and placed it next to my side. Oh was I a sight to behold. Of all the battles and wars I involved myself in, it surprises me that I still had 'some' facial structure. If the gruesome scars weren't enough, my burned hide would have made anyone gag in a repulsive manner. I frowned. I had no need for pity, nor do I pity myself, but that did not mean I didn't appreciate being spoken to without having someone turn away in disgust, or feared so badly I was labeled a monster. If they wanted a monster, well, now they had one. A legacy to match the face. It was me against everyone else. The world had no room for me, so I had no need of it. i reached over to the tray once more and grabbed a loaf of bread. I took note that it wasn't stale. It was fresh and still had warmth to it, like it had just been baked. I took a bite out of it numbly, not caring to indulge in its taste, warmth, or texture. Not even caring about the sweet aroma as it waft past my nostrils. I learned to eat anything and everything this way. The less you think about it, the better. That was how I survived most of my jailing and for so long. Finally, I gave in. it had been a while since I had a decent meal that didn't taste like crap. Once I was finished, I immediately reached for my helmet and placed it upon my shoulders in its rightful place over my head. I took note of the cot that stood across from where I sat. Slowly, I arose and slumped into the thin cushioned bedding, and slowly drifted into slumber, still donning my armor. Tomorrow, I shall make my escape.

~No one's P.O.V.

All was silent except for a few snoring prisoners as light slowly flooded through the bared in windows of the cellar. The sun was rising into a new day. Everyone was still dreaming away, all except for one prisoner, el Pollo. The chicken clucked around its cell for a good moment before it jumped off its roost it had conveniently made upon its cot, and clucked towards the cell door. It fixed it's ruffled feathers, before raising its head to the ceiling and cawed loudly. Everyone woke with a start at the annoying caw of the chicken. He continued cawing until one fed up prisoner threw a loaf of bread, which made contact with the cross-eyed chicken's face. It was silent for a few confused moments before it pecked at its new meal. The sound of a heavy wooden door was later heard as the old prison guard reported to his post. He pushed the creaking door shut and placed a plank over to keep it secure, then made his way to his daily business of preparing breakfast. Sure enough, not long after he arrived, the smell of food flooded the cellar as the old guard carted in. he went about feeding everyone as usual, until he reached the final cell. The old guard stared blankly at the empty cell. There was nothing but the prisoner's helmet that was left behind. The prisoner had escaped! The old man started to panic until he saw movement off to the corner of his eye. That was when the prisoner revealed himself. He was pressed against the cell walls, waiting. The old man stared shockingly at the prisoner, seeing his face for the first time. It was a mess as far as he was concerned. The guy had patches of scars that looked like burn marks, and his face looked it had been chew and spat back out. he was completely bald, probably singed off from where ever he got those burning scars. He had a deep scar that ran over his right eye, and a shorter scar over his left temple. He also had a few smaller scars riddled on the bridge of his nose and cheeks, and a lash scar just under his lower lip, running down his chin. Before the old man could react, the prisoner wrapped an arm around his neck, chocking him as he tore the keys away. He quickly smacked the old man's head against a bar, knocking him out to silence him. He made quick work of unlocking his cell. He grabbed his helmet, and headed straight for the entrance, ripping the plank from the door and slipping out. He climbed a staircase that lead him up, finding himself in a hallway with two approaching soldiers. He quickly concealed himself behind a wall, waiting until the soldiers turned the corner to find him. he grabbed at the soldier's throats and slammed them against the wall as they fell to the ground limp. He retrieved what weapons he could find and continued down the hall, keeping his guard up for any approaching footsteps, but then he heard a shout from the other side of the hall where he had left the two unconscious soldiers, and was sighted. At this point, he was running, trying to find a way out. He managed to slip pass a few more soldiers, but it was clear that word got out about his escape. He kept wandering around until he found a room that held the weaponry. He smiled deviously as he skimmed over the various weapons, then picked out two tomahawks, strapping them to his waist, and two light-weight duel swords. He was admiring the swordsmanship until he was interrupted by a group of soldiers who were wanting to arm themselves as well. They stared up at the knight's massive form, before running the other direction as he exploded out of the room after them. They lead him to the mess hall, where most of the recruits now resided for breakfast. All heads turned towards him as they stopped what they were doing to stare at the escaped prisoner. The silence was soon broken as someone shouted "Get em'!" and everyone scrambled to their feet with their swords drawn out and charged towards him. The knight stared passively at the mob that was ready to hack him to pieces. He simply rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck from side to side, and prepared himself in a fighting stance. The first few to come right at him where quickly slashed down and shoved away as the knight plowed right through the mob towards the front entrance. He managed to rip free of the mob as they chased him out the door, but he was cut off as a group of soldiers rode towards him on horseback with their swords waving in the air. They slashed at him, but he blocked it off and knocked them off their saddle with the hilt of his sword. He fended himself as best he could until shouts caused him to quickly glance towards his left to find a soldier trying to stay settled on HIS horse. He saw an opportunity to escape as he tore from the mob once more and race towards his steed. He made short work of the soldier as he yanked him off and slid onto his rightful saddle and raced towards the bridge that will allow him to cross the mote, but as he neared, he realized that they were trying to cut him off again by raising the bridge. He charged towards the bridge at a full gallop, then slid around so that he was facing backwards, retrieving the tomahawks that where strapped to his sides, and flung them at the chains that raised and lowered the bridge. he managed to wedge one into the chain and stopped it from raising anymore as he made his escape, but when he thought me was home clear, they had readied the archers, and he was bombarded with arrows. One had pierced through his leg, and another into his back, causing a shallow wound. He grunted in pain, but didn't stop as he and his steed soon disappeared into the safe haven of the forest. He didn't plan to stop until he reached his home.

Though whatever the reason, he was unable to find his way. It was getting dark and he had lost a good amount of blood. He won't survive unless he found some sort of shelter so he could stop and tend to his wounds. He was tired and the same could be said about his horse, who now moved at a slow trek through the cold night. To make it even worst, it soon started to snow as the wind picked up harshly. The black hearted knight couldn't help but shiver as he started to lose all feeling of his fingers and toes. The snow was quickly rising, and the hope of finding shelter dwindled away as each snow flake fell. Finally, the knight gave out one last breath before he blacked out, falling off of his saddle. His steed stopped and turned towards its master, snorting as it tried to wake him up to no avail. The dark horse shook his head, shaking off the crystal flakes that matted into his mane, and continued to stir its master with building frustration to the point he was neighing loudly for help.

~somewhere in da woods

"Rune, wait. Do you hear that?" the horse snorted in reply as its mistress paused to listen for something. She took note of her horse as his ears twitched.

"What is it boy?" the horse snored again and started to trek towards the direction the sound was coming from.

As they neared, the red-headed woman could hear another horse in distress. When they finally approached their destination, she let out a gasp at the sight of the man from yesterday, lying unconscious in the snow with arrows embedded in him. She quickly slipped off her horse to check on the stranger, grabbing a branch from her sled. As she approached the man, she jabbed the branch at him a few times, to make sure he was completely out before he hesitantly grabbed his arms and dragged him onto her sled. When she was done, she turned to tend to the stray horse. The horse seemed to back away from her, so she tried to approach it as calmly as possible. It seemed to relax at her gestures as she placed a cool hand on his nose, stoking him lightly, before taking hold of his reins as well as her horse's reins. She took the liberty of leading the horses on foot to her cottage as she carefully brought the man inside, laying him on her wooden floorboards, then leaving the tend to the horses, taking them inside the barn to shelter them from the bitter cold.

She had left some hay for the two, and made her way back to her home. she closed the door behind her and quickly shedded out of her fur-lined cloak, then started to place more logs into the dying fire in the sitting room. Finally, she turned her attention to the man that was laying on her floor. The snow had begun to melt off his armor as it soaked her floor, but she would have to worry about it later. She carefully approached him as she slipped her arms under his, dragging him onto the couch. It took a lot of effort to lift the full weight of his armor and himself. She was out of breath by the time she was done. Now that phase one was complete, she knew what she had to do next. she couldn't possibly leave him in armor with his wounds, and possibly armed at that? No. she was not going to risk it. After she had recovered, she slowly started to remove any weapons he had on him. she found non, which surprised her. she decided it would be best to started removing his armor, but her curiosity got to her as she eyed his helmet. The black metal contrasted with the red glow of the fire, it was almost hellish. She reached for it until her fingertips just brushed the surface, when she found her arm in a vice grip as the knight sat up with his eyes narrowed at her.

* * *

**meh.**

**-demise.**


	3. Chapter 3: Refuge

The woman feebly struggled as she tried to yank her hand free from the stranger, only to have him tighten his grip as he got to his feet, shoving her against the wall harshly, restraining her wrists above her head.

"Let me go!" she demanded as she kicked at his shin, causing pain to rattle up his body as he fell to his knees from the arrow wound he had received earlier that day.

The knight stared up at her with dismay as anger seemed to seethe off of him, giving her a look of hatred from behind his helmet as she staggered away from him into the far corner, and racing up the stairs to sanctuary. The Knight clumsily got to his feet and limped after her, dragging himself up the stairs by the hand-railing. When he finally reached the top floor, he waddled down the hallway towards the last room, where movement and rummaging could clearly be heard. He made no effort in breaking down the door with his shoulder, and stepping into the room, but he froze as the woman now had a cross bow aimed directly at him.

"Not a step further or I'll have another dead man on my hands." Spoke the woman harshly as she narrowed her eyes.

The knight, seeing he had no way of dis-arming her or making a quick escape, slowly rose his hands in surrender.

"Turn around." She order.

The knight cocked his head in confusion.

"I said, turn around." She demanded, raising the crossbow and taking better aim at his chest.

He slowly complied, turning around as she shoved him towards the stairs.

She guided him down into the kitchen, pulling out a worn wooden chair from under the dining table with her foot and shifting her angle.

"Sit down."

The knight looked from her, to the chair, before finally sitting down, relieved to be off his injured leg, but cautious to what the woman might be planning.

"I'll be askin' you some questions. Answer them, and I 'might' let you live."

The knight stayed silent as she continued.

"First off, who are you, and what where ye doing in my neck of the woods. This is private property."

"…"

"Don't feel like answering then? Fine. I'll be kind and let you go."

This caught the knight's attention. What game was she playing at? He watched as she wandered around him and swung the front door open wide, letting a gust of cold air burst into the room from the blizzard outside. He felt deathly sick from the slick cold, freezing him to the core.

"I will not tolerate strangers in my house. You can take your horse out at the barn and find your own way back."

The knight lowered his head in defeat. He will have to remain here until the storm passes if he planned to be alive for more than a day or two. The woman, seeing he had given in, closed the door and secured it against the harsh winds.

"Let's start from the beginning then. What is your name?"

The knight didn't look up for a few moments, staring hard at the wooden floor, debating if he should lie to this woman. He soon realized petty things such as names no longer mattered for someone like him.

"... My name is Bozz." He spoke gruffly. His voice was deep and very intimidating, but he spoke softly, exhaustion clearly present in his tone.

"where did ya come from, and what business did you have out in the woods at this time of day?"

"… I escaped imprisonment, and retreated to the woods for sanctuary, but I was wounded and could not find my way home."

The woman furrowed her brows in deep thought before she continued.

"You're that knight who was chasing after those guards weren't ya? Why shouldn't I turn you in and have you locked away for good?"

The knight narrowed his eyes at her as he spoke in a more harsh tone. "Why shouldn't I kill you and be rid of you for good?" he growled.

The woman raised her brow at him. "You're in no position to be threating me ya brute." As she spoke, she pointed out his wounds with her cross-bow. He followed it, looking at his wounds briefly before glaring back up at her.

"Just a scratch, I'll survive." He grumbled.

"I don't care if ya live or not, I'm not having you bleeding out on my floor." As she spoke, she moved towards the doorway, turning and leaving the room, out of his line of sight.

He could hear the sound of rummaging around before the sound of footsteps alerted her return. She had what seemed to be medical supplies consisting of cloth wrappings, gauze, and empty bowl and a wash rag. She set them on the table beside him, keeping her distance, just out of his reach, and moved towards the door frame.

"I'm sure someone like you is familiar with dressing himself. There's hot water in the kettle there. I'll find some spare blankets, and you can sleep on the couch tonight, and tomorrow you can be on your way."

As she turned to leave, he voiced a question that had been bothering him.

"Who are you." he seemed to be demanding an answer then asking for one.

The woman turned towards him, a small grin peeking at the edges of her mouth. "My name's Iris, I'm the one you knocked you out, and I won't be shy in doing it again, so no funny business." She warned before slipping away once more, ascending the staircase in search of blankets.

. . . Knights POV

I watched as the woman disappeared behind the wall. I slowly turned and looked over the supplies she had brought me. It made me wonder, if she was so anxious to be rid of me, why is she aiding me? She could have easily pulled the trigger and killed me now, and that would have been the end of her problems. I am not someone you simply help out of good will. I am to be feared, cautioned. I am death itself. A monster. So.. Why? Does she not know who I am? …I shook away the thought. No, the king's death would have reached every corner of the world, no matter how far or wide, and with it, bring the news of the bounty placed on my head. I huffed bitterly. No time to squander in meaningless drabble. I reached over and started removing my armory, starting with the shin guards, then the arm braces, parts of my chest plates, and finally most of my leggings. All that was left was my helmet, a shirt and pants all under chainmail, and leather boots. A few scraps of armor remained from the arrows protruding from my back and leg. I had broken off the shafts, leaving short of what's left, and of course, the arrowhead still wedged in my armor. I carefully unstrapped my boots, setting them aside with my gloves as I examined the arrow wound I had received in my thigh. i had already filled the bowl that was provided to me with hot water. I reached over, and grabbed a rag, placing it into the steaming water, and wrapped it around the broken shaft of the arrow. I took a deep breath, gripping the arrow so I had a good hold, and plucked it out. I groaned as pain shot up my thigh and up my spine, giving me an unpleasant wave of nerve shock. I immediately pressed the clothe to the now bleeding wound, to stop from any further loss of blood, and reached for more supplies, cleaning my wound and piling it with gauze before dressing it in tight wrappings. as I was just finishing, the woman had returned from preparing the place I was to sleep tonight, but when she laid her eyes upon me, she seemed to be… out of place. I could see her face turn a light tint of pink, which made me raise my brow. She seemed to keep an even greater distance from me, pressing herself as close as she could to the wall, but still trying to not be suspicious, which was not working what so ever.

"So…" she started.

"Um.. How are your wounds?"

The question made me raise my brow once more.

"I thought you said you cared not weather I lived or died." I replied casually.

"I don't, but I don't want all my hard work of bringing ya here and making a place for you to sleep go to waste either." She replied, seeming to be her natural self once again.

I grunted, ending the conversation as I focused on my other wound, but found it difficult to reach for the arrow still wedged into my back. After a few more trials and error, I finally gave up. I will require the woman to help me if I want to heal. I slowly turned towards her. By the expression on her face, I could tell she knew what I wanted her to do. She seemed to be nervous are she shifted her gaze from me, to the arrow head, and the bloody mess I left on the table.

"Oh.. no, no, no, no. I don't do well with blood." She squeaked as she tried to retreat away from the kitchen, but I was able to grab her by the arm and pull her back.

"you claim to live off the forest, you should be familiar with killing and skinning animals." I pointed out.

She narrowed her eyes at me as she took my words are insult.

"Of course I have, but this is different! I can't stand the sight of blood and wounds on another person!"

I didn't loosen my grip. "I can't help myself, I need you to pull the arrow head out. If its really too much for you, close your eyes and I'll tell you when to pull." I insisted.

She seemed hesitant, but after a long moment, she finally nodded, knowing I would not take 'no' for an answer. I released her, and handed her the rag that was now a light tint of red from washing my previous wound. She seemed repulsed by it, but managed to stomach it down, wrapping the cloth around the broken arrow shaft and both her hands over it. I I winced a bit from the arrow moving slightly, before taking another deep breath and biting down on my teeth.

"when I tell you, pull the arrow out as fast as you can, yank it out, and immediately press the rag onto my wound.

"Ok.." she replied.

I took a moment to prepare myself, taking in another deep breath.

"Do it." I signaled.

Pain over-came my body immediately. I clenched my fists till my knuckles turned white as I heard a tearing sound as the arrow was ripped from my back. The pain was over-whelming. I felt weak and tired as my wound continued to throb, filling me with sickening pain. I could feel the woman pressing the rag against the tender wound. I hissed under my helmet, trying to hold still for her to dress my wound. I took note that her face turned red once more as I removed my shirt, but I ignored it. she finally gotten over whatever it was that was running through her head, and managed to dress me without freaking out or squeaking in fright every time I moved, Covering most of my upper-body and left shoulder in wrappings.

When the grueling task was done, I immediately wanted nothing more than to pass out where I was and retreat into blissful dream. I stood up from my seat as the woman went about to putting away the supplies she had taken out for me. I used the walls to support myself as I moved from the kitchen to the room next to it, where I was to stay for the night. There I saw the couch with a set of blankets and a pillow neatly folded and placed at the foot of the furniture. I grunted as I made the slow few steps towards the couch and collapsed into its cushioned warmth, minding my helmet. I was about to black out, when I heard the woman speaking once more.

"You're going to sleep with your helmet on?"

I turned my head roughly towards her, speaking in a low, dead-serious tone.

"Touch it again, and I will tear your limbs off." I growled.

She seemed angered, but she said nothing more as she retreated up the stairs, leaving me alone. I soon passed out as the warmth of the fire comforted me greatly, but it did little for the horror that once again terrorized my dreams, reminding me once more of my guilt and sins.

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**New chapter! even though its been roughly two months. - o- meh. things will start to pick up in the next few chapters when i get them up.**

**-Demise**


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